


three guns, and one goes off

by stardustandfantasies



Category: Padz and Friends (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Drunk Sex, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 07:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandfantasies/pseuds/stardustandfantasies
Summary: But you didn’t know, at least not until you found your fingers weaved in her long hair and your heart entangled in this mess, what your pathetic traitorous heart had been telling you all this time but you'd refused to hear.They said lies that were so often repeated would become true. You crossed your fingers and wished it were true.





	three guns, and one goes off

**Author's Note:**

> Probably contains dubcon; not sure, but putting a warning just in case. The title is from the alt-J song "Tessellate".
> 
> I shamelessly wrote this in 2017 as a means of wish fulfilment, because one does not simply get over DBL feels. The Aldo/Stella feels have been strong since 2016. Admittedly, that sways me greatly toward this ship, even though I used to (still!!!) ship Julian/Stella like FedEx. I like it when Ijul suffers, though. :-)

You didn't even remember how it started.

You remembered her calling you after a fight with her boyfriend. They'd had arguments before, but nothing as disastrous as this one.

You remembered driving over to her place. It was nothing unusual—you and she had been close friends for so long and were used to seeking each other’s support.

You remembered telling her  _you look like you could use some booze_ and placing the bottle you brought into her hand. Her eyes, red and puffy from crying, had laughed, but they were soon filled with tears again as she started talking.

And then it happened—

You didn't remember how exactly it happened—grief? intoxication? a spur-in-the-moment realisation?—and the next moment you're both in her room, kissing one another senseless like you'd hungered for it all your life. You pushed her—or did she pull you?—down the bed. You didn't remember the rest of the night, which passed in a blurry haze. (Or maybe you did?)

The morning after you woke up to the stench of betrayal and guilt, a cold pit aching inside you. Something inside was burning last night; nothing was left but ashes.

She said nothing but telling you to leave. You wanted to say you're sorry, but her eyes refused to meet yours. Words couldn't change anything, but you said it anyway before you closed the door.

Weeks of avoiding each other and awkward inevitable run-ins passed, and she finally called you again.

_We need to talk._

You’ve known her for ages; you’re used to having fights and making up for them with her. But you're not sure about this one. You're not sure if any of you were still the same after it happened.

Her eyes were distant, a frozen veneer with turbulent waters underneath. You fought back your instinct to hug her, like you always did— _used to_  do—when she's upset.

 _I’m sorry_ , she said. Her voice was calm, but you knew her too well to not catch an infinitesimal hint of tremor. _It was a mistake. It’s all my fault._

You understood; you were a mistake, not a choice. She didn’t have a choice at the first place—and even when she didn’t have a choice she'd still chose him. He was always her choice, always the first in her thoughts, even after all this time he’d been breaking his promises and her heart

(It was still his name that she called when you gave her what she'd wanted.)

 _No, it’s my fault too,_ you said, because you knew it was—of course you knew it was. You knew that you stopped neither her nor yourself even though you should've had, you knew—

—but you didn’t know, at least not until you found your fingers weaved in her long hair and your heart entangled in this mess, what your pathetic traitorous heart had been telling you all this time but you'd refused to hear.

You never said that. Some things are better left unsaid.

In a week’s time you’re friends again. Everything was fine and nothing hurt. At least that’s what you told yourself.

(Forgiving was one thing. Forgetting was another.)

None of you never mentioned it. Not between you, not to him. Not when he had apologised to her and they had reconciled.

You know you're supposed to be happy for them. You really wanted to. She was your closest friend, and he was a good friend of yours too.

You said your heartiest congratulation to the happy-again couple, presenting them with a fresh bouquet and old lies. He was beaming, his arms were wrapped too tightly around her, like he's keeping her from you said a voice in your heart. She smiled, all secrets coated with sweetness.

Something tugged at your heart again.

You tried to shut it up, that pathetic traitorous lying heart of yours. You worked harder, exercised harder, laughed harder—you threw yourself harder into whatever you’re doing to crush that nagging feeling.

 _Things are going great and I’ve never been better,_  you lied to yourself, to her, to him, to everyone who asked.

It was easy to lie. Lying always became easier after your first lie.

They said lies that were so often repeated would become true. You crossed your fingers and wished it were true.

It almost did, if she hadn't come to you, her smile as radiant as the ring on her finger, saying  _I’m marrying him._


End file.
